


The Blistering Cold and the Scorched Heart

by assbutts_ahoy



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Assassin's Creed: Rogue, Gen, Haytham is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Shay Cormac Is Trying His Best, Unrequited Love, im also bad at feelings, shay also gets told all the compliments hes been needing to hear, this comes out sounding more of an Ultimate Bro relationship than anything, two idiot men don't know how to talk to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27406234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbutts_ahoy/pseuds/assbutts_ahoy
Summary: The Morrigan gets caught in an awful winter storm on the Atlantic Coast. As the crew and her captain fight for their lives, their collective near-death experiences cause a messy avalanche of feelings and emotions to erupt from the shadows. Haytham never knew what he had to lose until it almost sunk in the sea.
Relationships: Shay Cormac & Chistopher Gist, Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	The Blistering Cold and the Scorched Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a long time coming, and it actually changed paths several times in the middle while I was writing it. For some unexplained reason though, I haven't been able to get my mind away from this story and probably spent far too much time writing it over the last week. Hope you enjoy reading about two men dance around their feelings for 6k :)

The anticipated storm came with more force than any of them could have imagined. The wind seemed to rise out of the ocean with the growing waves as the port side hull was viciously rammed. With the wind came a flurry of snow so thick Shay struggled to see where the Grandmaster was clinging to the railing beside him. The ship tilted dangerously as his quartermaster tried his damnedest to call out orders over the unruly wind.

The poor crew was getting tossed around the deck like sacks of flour, a handful of men beginning to throw out ropes to secure themselves to the ship. Shay desperately fought with the tiller to try to balance the Morrigan. He tried to call out to Gist, but no noise would be heard over the howl of the wind. Shay briefly saw a sailor beside him knocked back as the rigging broke loose from the chainplates. He couldn't hear anything other than ringing in his ears as he braced for another wave that rattled the hull. His crew had been through enough storms to know their duties, but regardless, Shay felt extremely unnerved.

The ship started to twist up along another wave, and Shay fought hard to straighten her out. With a large gust of wind, the tension of the tiller threw Shay to the side, sending the Morrigan spinning. He landed in front of where Haytham had secured himself to the portside railing. The Grandmaster was clutching his hat against his chest and wore a look of concern as he looked down towards Shay. Gist had caught the wheel while Shay clambered up to his feet again to join his quartermaster at the helm. Together, the two of them barely held the rudder long enough for the ship to crest the wave before they were both thrown off again. There was a moment where the sea had complete control as the two took a few unsteady steps before Shay latched on to the tiller once more. He braced himself off to the side, pushing upwards to gain a better stance.

Only for a short moment, there was a break in the thick snow, but it lasted long enough to reveal a jagged outcrop breaching the waves. Shay's eyes widened as he released the tiller, spinning the ship wildly to avoid the rocks. Seeing the chance, one of the crewmen dropped anchor before the ship could be carried away any further. The Morrigan jerked harshly, throwing her captain away from the helm. They may have stopped sailing, but the mainsail was still catching the wind, threatening to capsize the ship. The waves licked at the starboard railing as the frame groaned under the stress. 

"Someone release the mains!" Shay bellowed out as he and Gist slid towards the side of the deck.

Though the Morrigan was still held in place by the anchor, the winds forced the ship forward. They were being swung back towards the cliff like the chain of a mace. The hull collided with a sickening crack, and a majority of the crew had cried out, trying to catch hold of anything in reach as they were flung violently across the deck. The impact had catapulted the quartermaster and captain into the air, and Shay was barely able to grab hold of one of the loose rigging lines before being thrown into the freezing water below. Shay could have sworn he heard someone yell 'man overboard', but couldn't be sure if it was his scattered mind or the blistering wind, but at this point, he would be genuinely surprised if they hadn't lost at least one man to the sea.

The waves slithered up between the ship and the rocks, spraying the already drenched deck. When the captain looked over, Gist was dripping wet, clutching the railing with both arms and a leg as he heaved himself back onto the slanted deck. His quartermaster waved his hand, saying he would be fine. With that encouragement, Shay swung himself onto the main deck just in time to catch one of his men stumbling towards the water. The two clasped forearms as the man steadied himself, nodding in thanks.

"Captain Cormac!"

Shay spun to see a group of his sailors, each outfitted with a coil of rope and some sort of knife. One of them gestured up towards the sail, which was now bending the mast forward. Another one tossed a knife at him, and Shay caught it and looked at the sail with determination. The small team wasted no time scaling up the mast and ratlines to the yard for the main topsail. They clambered across the mast, the thick snow nearly blinding them as the harsh winds pushed at their backs. The chill was almost worse than it was on the deck, but Shay pushed through and followed behind one of his crew members. There was a shout from the other end of the yard line, something Shay couldn't make out from this distance. He faintly saw another man slid towards him, stopping about a foot from where the captain sat on the mast. 

"James says the riggin's too tangled ta salvage!" he yelled over the wailing winds. " We got to cut the whole of it loose, else we'll end up capsizin'!" Shay nodded in understanding and cut the rigging securing the sail below him.

The corner of the canvas whipped free, rippling in the wind. The mast groaned under the release of stress, but the one line barely affected the slope the Morrigan currently sat at. Another wave crashed it's way into the hull below him, pushing the ship further sideways. Rather than seeing it, Shay ended up feeling the mast collide with the rock face. The entire structure seemed to vibrate with the impact, and he struggled to grasp a better hold to where he was sitting. With a sudden jolt, all of the stress placed on the mast was lifted, releasing the hold the wind held over the ship. The ship moved with the same force of a compressed spring being released, which was something Shay was unable to prepare for. 

The only way Shay could really describe it was that one moment, he was clutching the rope so hard he could feel his hands through the numbness of the northern cold, and the next moment he felt nothing. He didn't feel the cold of the wind on his back, or the pressure of the rope digging into his hands. He was confused for a fraction of a second before everything came rushing back at full force.

Shay hit the water hard. His chest felt crushed as any bit of air was pushed out of him. Every inch of his body ached and stung as he fought to breach the surface. The cold was almost unbearable. As he finally managed to get a breath in, he almost regretted it. His entire throat burned as he sucked in the freezing air before he was submerged again. Fighting against the waves was much more difficult this time around as the water was beginning to numb his muscles. Pure panic began to set in and Shay's mind became even more scattered. A mouthful of water was enough for him to come to his senses for a moment and get his head above water again. He broke the surface, sputtering in confusion. Everything happened so suddenly his mind was still trying to catch up with the events. He was pulled back to reality when a rope was thrown out in front of him. Shay wrapped it around himself the best he could as he was hauled back towards the ship.

Shay's grip began to slip when he actually had to contribute to his rescue. He nearly fell back into the freezing water as his numb fingers gave away under his weight. Shay tried to shake off his crew and pull himself over the railing, but fortunately, they got ahold of him before he sent himself flailing back into the ocean. Gist was at his side at once, quite literally dragging Shay into his cabin. Shay heard his quartermaster bark out a couple last orders, but he couldn't understand what exactly they were.

It felt like he just didn't exist. Shay couldn't move, and definitely couldn't stand, because Gist was holding him tight and sighing as he busied himself with something else. Shay quickly came to learn that the 'something else' was Shay's jacket as a violent shiver racked his entire body in protest. Shay was visibly shaking as Gist did his best to shed Shay of his soaked clothing. As a new shirt was thrust over his head his cabin door was thrown open. Two crewmen came in with furs and a hot kettle from where the chef was probably slaving over the galley stove. After they placed the items down, they lingered for a moment before Gist shooed them out of the cabin.

"Was anyone lost in the storm?" Shay asked in a voice that probably sounded as rough as it felt.

Gist looked at him in disbelieve for a moment, then seemed to remember what type of person Shay was, and smiled. "Two other men were retrieved from the water alive. We've just secured the ship and Higgins is probably assessing the damage as we speak." Gist seemed to be content with the number of layers Shay was wearing and wrapped a thicker blanket over Shay's shoulders. "Sometimes I feel as though you care too much, Master Cormac, but we wouldn't be here if you were any different." Shay couldn't keep away the smile that made its way onto his face.

"It's true!" Gist insisted, his voice returning to it's loud and obnoxious (yet completely friendly) volume. They were both smiling like idiots when the door was once again pushed open without any warning. 

"What in heaven's name were you thinking?" The Grandmaster was absolutely furious. 

"Sir-"

"Your actions were completely reckless and extremely dangerous to both yourself and your crew!" 

"Sir!"

"Clearly, you thought nothing of the consequences and for that, I daresay you deserve whatever shiver your actions bring! Are you aware of how powerful an asset you are, or do you simply forget your duties - to the Order, to me!"

Shay's gaze hardened as he listened to Haytham rattle on about his lack of responsibility and thinking. He respected the Grandmaster more than anyone else, but while they are on his ship, and it's his crew that is in danger, Shay has the final say.

"With all due respect, _sir_ ," Shay began in a raised voice, waiting for Haytham's rant to cease before continuing more cooly, "I am aware of the consequences if something were to happen to me, but I am also aware that if we didn't loose that sail, I wouldn't have been the only one swallowing seawater."

Haytham glared at him from across the room. If he had anything else on his mind, he didn't speak it. Shay held his gaze a moment before turning away to shut the door that Haytham left swinging open in his anger fueled entrance. After the door was shut, Shay turned, clutching the blankets over his shoulder before addressing Haytham once more.

"I would also appreciate that if you are to question or berate my choices again, you do it without the whole of the crew standing outside my open door." Shay looked at Haytham again, but the other man's eyes had since dropped to the floor. 

Gist could sense the tension in the room and quickly made for an escape. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I should go and check on the other men and make sure they're alright."

As the door clicked shut for the third time, Shay let out a deep sigh, leaning up against the front of his desk. Haytham rubbed the back of his neck before taking a step or two closer to his companion. 

"I'm...sorry." Haytham mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Shay asked.

Haytham huffed, readjusting a little before repeating himself. "I said...I'm..sorry."

Shay held a mischievous glint in his eye as he raised his voice a little bit. "I can't seem to hear you with all this seawater in my ears, say again?"

Haytham's patience had found its end. "You heard me, Cormac." He said sternly. "I apologize for questioning your decisions as a captain."

Shay chuckled lightly at that, looking back towards Haytham playfully. He understood the Grandmaster's concern over him and his position among the Templars, but Shay isn't the type of man who made thoughtless decisions. He knows his responsibilities to the Rite, but his responsibilities to his crew come first. His men trust him with their lives, and that is not something to be taken lightly.

The two of them sit in silence for a while. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, or at least Shay didn't feel that way. Haytham's gaze was quite set on examining the floorboards, so Shay moved around his large captain's desk to sit down on his bed. Pulling the blankets tight around his shoulders, he leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. For a while, there was no sound other than the crash of the waves upon the hull and the whistling wind. The floors groaned as the ship was rocked back and forth, and Shay briefly wondered how his crew was doing after that near capsize. 

Before his mind could get further lost around thoughts of his men, he heard Haytham begin to walk over. Shay lifted a heavy eyelid as the Grandmaster slowly and unsurely sat on the bed by Shay's feet. Now that he wasn't either being yelled at, or yelling himself, Shay could see how dishevelled Haytham was. His hair was hanging messily out of its usual neat tie back, and his face held a red tinge from the biting cold of the wind.

Haytham cleared his throat lightly, visibly out of place sitting in front of Shay. "That was rather unfair of me, back there, "he begins quietly, "I shouldn't have let my own selfish reasons interfere with your duties as a captain. It was through your actions that we are still alive, and all I could see was how you endangered yourself."

Shay's heart warmed at that. It wasn't very often that the Grandmaster showed this side of himself, but Shay was always grateful when it was within his presence. The front Haytham puts off is quite impressive, but very few people are privy to see how caring he truly is. Under all of the superficial business and this title he carries with him like some great badge on his chest, he is a different man.

As Shay sat silently, Haytham continued, "I-I don't know how to articulate this very well, but-" he paused, trying to choose his next words carefully, "I care quite deeply for you Shay. Truthfully, I was terrified when I heard it was you that went overboard, and-" his breath hitched on the last word, "I wasn't sure how to picture a world without you in it."

Shay's eyes blinked open fully. It felt as though Shay had swallowed his own heart and it sat thumping uncomfortably in his stomach. Perhaps his ungraceful fall into the Atlantic had affected him more than he thought, causing him to hear incorrectly.

Shay went to open his mouth, but his jaw just sort of hung there a moment. Haytham, still not looking at Shay and was oblivious to his companion's befuddlement, continued to speak. "I feel as though, throughout all of this precursor chaos and uncertainty - through all the assassins trying to kill me and the world falling apart in my very hands - the only certain thing in my life is you. You are the thing that grounds me and reminds me as to what I should be fighting for." 

As Haytham drifts his gaze back up to meet Shay's, and the younger man holds no more confusion or doubt to his hearing when Haytham's eyes meet his. There is a look there that makes Shay freeze faster than the sea on the first day of winter, and shakes him more than any chill his body could hope to muster. Shay knows that he should say something, say anything, but his mind is racing so fast that he can't settle on a single word, and the physical ordeal he was just put through isn't helping him any. He watches as Haytham's face slowly changes, returning back to the stoic and stern look the Grandmaster wears so easily. He straightens his posture and looks at Shay one more time. 

"I suppose you'll need the proper rest to ensure our safe delivery to Port Menier. I shall take my leave." Haytham stands and tried to readjust his jacket. It matters not, for his clothing has all shifted out of place from the storm. Under more normal circumstances, Shay might have found humour in the action, but his mind was in a tangled knot trying to unravel and understand the words Haytham spoke to him just moments ago.

Shay watched without a clear thought in his mind as Haytham made for the cabin door. His heart reached and clawed, wanting the other man to stay, but he simply couldn't muster the words to say anything. 

With a single hand on the doorknob, Haytham paused a moment to look back at Shay. "I'll send for Gist to check on you." 

And just like that, he was gone.

* * *

Shay had tried for a long while to get some rest, but his mind raced and his heart ached. Did Haytham truly mean what he said? Shay didn't necessarily see himself as anyone of importance, least of all to the Grandmaster. Realistically, Shay should be just another man under Haytham's command, but it sounded an awful lot like that wasn't the case. As Shay sat huddled in his blankets, his brow furrowed in confusion. He was lost in thought for so long, he barely registers when Gist entered the room once more. The taller man shrugged some of the snow off his jacket before advancing deeper into the cabin. It had gotten a lot darker since he last was here, and from the looks of it, Shay had not moved an inch in some time. 

"Evening, cap'in." He addressed Shay as he placed a sizable tankard on the desk and rummaged across the surface for a pair of mugs. " I brought you a nice hot toddy. Cook's been slaving away, and this is the drink in highest demand."

"I'd love a glass, Gist." Shay said, salivating at the idea of a delicious hot drink in his hands. Toddys' may be simple, but they're a sailor's favourite on a cold Atlantic night.

Chris locates two relatively clean mugs, shining one of them up on his coat before playing them both on the desk and pouring some steaming liquid from the tankard he brought with him. The air quickly filled with the sweet scent of nutmeg and the cabin seemed to feel warmer already. Chris passed Shay a hot cup while taking the other up in his own hand. Shay clutched the warm cup in his hands as he sat swaddled in blankets and sniffed at the aroma from the drink. Gist had leaned back against the desk, facing Shay and holding his own drink close to his chest. Shay blew on the steaming beverage before cautiously taking a sip. The heat of the liquid seemed to run through his body and he already felt a little warmer. He let out a satisfied sigh before looking back at a grinning Chris. 

He looked down at Shay with a warm smile. "Never fails to warm a sailor." he said with a bit of humour. Shay lifted his drink in agreement.

Shay took another sip before taking a more serious note. "How fair the men?"

Gist playfully rolled his eyes at him. "As good as they can with a captain such as yourself, Shay. You treat them well and care for them even more."

Shay continues, not quite recognizing the compliment. "Any injuries to report?"

"Nothing serious. Thomas went overboard as well, so he's recovering much like yourself, and is nursing a chill. Borris sprained his wrist during the madness. The rest of the crew is somewhat beaten and bruised but nothing else of note." Gist finished by taking a drink of his toddy.

Shay hummed, taking in the information. "What about the ship? Do you know the damage yet?"

Gist shrugged a little. "We've done a surface damage report so far. The railings are damaged and we have some splintering at the starboard bow and our rigging needs replacement before our next departure. There's some damage to the hull, but nothing serious thanks to your quick calls and the crew's work. The blizzard's yet too thick to see if we have damage to the masts or sails, and I'm not about to send someone back up there." he took another drink and shrugged his shoulders, "We're not sinking yet, so the outward damage can't be too serious."

"Good." Shay said, nodding his head, "Thanks, Chris."

Gist smiled at him. "Thank you, captain. I don't think we would still be topside if we didn't have you on deck."

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking their toddys and just enjoying the presence of one another. The silence between them was never empty, nor was it cold or uncomfortable. There is an unspoken bond that they're created, which could only have come from the years they've spent sailing together. A bond like brothers, Shay thinks. A bond like Liam's. That though comes crawling out of the shadows to claw at him, reminding him much of his past deeds. Shay takes another drink to swallow the feeling that is creeping up to overcome him. Though the thought fades, but the dark feeling lingers in him.

Perhaps Gist had felt the stir in their silence and decided he needed to fill it. "Your kindness knows no limits, Shay. You look after this crew - after me - like we're your own blood. There aren't many captains out there that can say the same." he sits up a little more from his perch at the table. "Even after everything you've dealt with and all that we saw together, you still continue to wear your heart on your sleeve and give as much as you're able."

Shay looked at him, a little surprised, and a little bashful at the string of compliments, but Chris continued. "You've done so much for this crew and I don't think you even realize it. The men would gladly lie their lives on the line for you, Shay, myself included."

Shay was at a loss for words. He knew deep down that his men liked him, but he never would have considered that they would give their lives in his name. Theoretically, it does make sense as they have willingly consented to dangerous sailing on a ship made for war, but this is something perhaps Shay hadn't considered so deeply. Chris had come to be able to read Shay rather well after sailing with him over the years. Although Shay was full of humour and talk, it was no secret how the captain felt about himself and his actions. Gist knew words and ways to lessen the burden of guilt Shay carried with him, and he knew when to share these with the captain. This was one of those times. 

"You know, captain, you ought to learn how to take a compliment more often." Chris chuckled. "As enjoying as it is to watch you flounder like a grounded fish, you need to accept you're not as much of a villain as you see yourself. I know you hold your past over your head like a blade begging to fall, but you need to move on and enjoy what's in front of you. Your crew admires and celebrates you, and I don't know how wrong thirty-five men can be in thinking you're admirable."

Shay nods, soaking in the words Gist has said. It felt a little bit like a lecture, but his first-mate was correct. Shay may not always show his feelings to his crew, but Gist has seen all the shades that he is capable of taking, seen sides of Shay that were never intended to be seen. Shay's been looking at a monster in the mirror for what's felt like ages, and often wonders how his first-mate can not look at him in the same way. He's been waiting years for his own reckoning, his demise at the hands of a revenger, and Shay would accept it as fate without a second thought. Perhaps Shay's view has tainted itself further than he previously imagined, and the monster he thought himself to be has faded away. He's acted like a sorry sack of shite for too long, and perhaps it's about high time he changes that. Shay drinks up the last of the contents in his mug and stands up off his bunk.

"You're right, Chris." he says, shrugging off his blankets and searching for a dry set of clothes. You need to move on and enjoy what's in front of you. Gist's words echoed and rang as crisp and clear as the Morrigan's bells on the open water. Shay tugged on a warmer, thicker pair of pants, and bundled up in an old coat he had shoved into a storage chest.

"Hang on there, Shay," Gist warned, pushing himself off the desk and turning towards the captain, "Are you sure you're feeling well? You haven't gone mad on me now, have you?" Chris's words were laced with humour, but as he caught Shay's shoulders and placed a warm hand on his forehead, it showed the genuine worry and care he directed at the other man.

Shay gently pushed his hand away, brandishing a genuine smile. "I'm alright, Gist. What you said," Shay thought for a moment, "What you said had just hit me as hard as those waves did earlier. Maybe it never occurred to this poor sod that I had any choice in my own affairs. I think it's about time to change that."

Chris smiled at the captain, nodding his head once. "Glad to see you've finally found your footing, cap'."

Shay finished buttoning his coats up and grabbed a set of leather gloves. Gist was already at the door, waiting for Shay before opening the room to the wild wind that whistled on the other side. Shay walked over, giving Gist a nod saying he was ready. With that nod, he twisted the handle and the wind and snow burst into the room in a flurry. Regularly, Shay would want nothing more than to crawl back into a warm bed, but he's filled with determination and a nice hot drink to fuel him through.

The two of them step out onto the snow-dusted deck, bracing against the arctic wind. The snow drifted so softly across the wood that it would be a beautiful sight to behold if it wasn't so damn cold out. The wind was dry, and stung Shay's face the longer he was outside in it. The boat continued to rock as they made their way across the deck, sounds of the crashing waves echoing and cracking ice echoed below them. It was so dark and miserable, that Shay could barely see in front of him, but he''s been on this ship long enough to navigate it with his eyes closed if ever he needed to.

Shay was thankful that no one was still out in this cold trying to salvage the ship or her parts. It would be far too dangerous to try any repairs at this time, but Shay could count at least five people on his crew that would try their hand anyway. Making for the stairs, each step they descended into the underdeck was warmer than the last. The sound of the wind was mixing with the noise of conversations and laughter. Crewmates were huddled in various groups, lit by lanterns as they sat and conversed with themselves. Some played cards, some sat with a steaming mug in their hands, but all of his men looked relatively content despite the circumstances of the night.

As the pair walked into the open cabin, some of the crew took notice, immediately hollering and cheering, throwing their cups up in a salute to their captain. The cabin was then filled with the sounds of celebration as the men called out to Shay. As Gist accompanied him further into the room, a few men clasped Shay on the shoulder as he walked by, thanking him. Shay was a little taken aback but was beginning to realize that they truly did come close to being frozen in the Atlantic. Shay returned the clasp, grasping hands with his bosun and they exchanged a meaningful and appreciative nod with each other. 

Shay made his rounds within the cabin, greeting his crew and chatting with the men. Gist had gotten ahold of another drink and had sat down with a rather rowdy group of sailors. Their voices were loud and cheerful despite their current predicament. That was something Shay quite enjoyed about his trusty crew; they always found joy in their work no matter what faced them. They kept their spirits light when the rain was flooding the deck and warmed each other with company on freezing nights like the one they are currently experiencing.

"How about a song, lads?" a voice bellowed from the far end of the cabin. A wave of cheering and shouting of agreement sounded as men rose their cups. 

Another voice sounded the first few words of a song before the rest of the crew joined in with their voices,

_Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage  
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea  
Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage  
And make a Northwest Passage to the sea_

Shay smiled as their voices filled the cabin with another kind of warmth. As he looked around though, there was something missing from their merriness; someone he needed to speak with. With a set determination, Shay grabbed a pair of mugs and a bottle of spirits from one of the now-abandoned sailor perch. He set off away from the voices that drifted through the ship. Their song may fade, but it could be heard over the howling wind and crashing of waves.

_Westward from the Davis Strait 'tis there 'twas said to lie  
The sea route to the Orient for which so many died  
Seeking gold and glory, leaving weathered, broken bones  
And a long-forgotten lonely cairn of stones_

Candlelight flickered in the doorway as Shay approached the cabin the Grandmaster was occupying. The door was left open, as it often was. Shay leaned up against the door frame, with two mugs dangling off the fingers of his one hand, while the other clutched the neck of a bottle. Haytham sat at the writing desk in the room, the movements of his hand seeming to dance as he composed flowing letters on the page. His hat sat on the edge of the desk, and his jacket was hanging up to the side. He seemed so consumed with writing he did not hear or notice Shay approach.

"Sir?" Shay called out softly.

It was hardly noticeable, but Haytham's hand jolted slightly on the page to the sound of Shay's voice. The Grandmaster cooly placed the pen in the inkwell and turned to face the captain as if he was already aware of Shay's presence.

"How are you feeling, Captain Cormac?" he looked at Shay with a tired face, the traces of a smile barely tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Feeling much better, Sir, but a glass of spirit may have aided that." Shay held up the bottle he held in his grasp, "Care for a drink?"

Haytham sighed, looking down at his book to contemplate a moment before answering, "Sure."

Shay placed the bottle and mugs down on the desk and pulled up a stool from the other side of the room. Haytham uncorked the bottle and poured the contents into the two cups. As Shay settled himself down on the stool, picking up his mug and taking a drink as Haytham followed suit. "I was wondering, sir," Shay began, "about what you said earlier?"

Haytham looked a little taken aback, not expecting Shay to revisit this, let alone remember it happened. He tried to brush those emotions aside and feign contentment. "Hm? What about it?"

Shay's thoughts were a muck, but he was beginning to find his footing again. "Did you mean what you said? About me?"

Haytham's heart seemed to surge and sink at the same time. Shay did remember what he said. It was not natural for Haytham to pour his heart out of his chest, and as much as his feeling wanted to run freely, he had long ago built a dam that is only continuing to break apart. These things do not come easily for him, and his instincts come in to take care of what mess remains.

"I had gotten swept away in my emotions. It was not an easy thing to face your probable death to the Atlantic, and I acted out of line upon finding you alive." he said, matter-of-factly.

Shay sighed, "Stop dancing. We both know what you said back there."

Haytham locked eyes with him. This look was not the same vulnerable, soft glance Shay had seen in his cabin earlier, this look was guarded, blank almost. It was meant to intimidate, but there was no true weight behind it. It was a facade to deter a lesser man, a warning almost, but Shay was not a lesser man.

They sat there, looking at each other in the dim candlelight, like two gunmen in a stand-off. Who will draw their pistol first and take the shot? In their silence, the crew's voices could be heard drifting down the ship, filling the silence between these two stubborn men.

_And through the night, behind the wheel, the mileage clicking west  
I think upon Mackenzie, David Thompson and the rest  
Who cracked the mountain ramparts and did show a path for me  
To race the roaring Fraser to the sea_

Shay did not break this gaze, nor was he planning to. He knew what Haytham said, he just needed this stubborn man to admit to it. He needed the confirmation that his heart yearned for, to be said out loud with his own words. Haytham seemed to catch on to this, realizing there was no getting out of this predicament. No matter how he hardened his gaze or hid himself away, there was no tricking Shay or swaying him away from this.

Haytham sighed, looking away from Shay and evidently breaking their stalemate. "What more do you want from me, Shay?" he said, exasperated and gesturing his hands to himself. "Clearly you know what I said, why bother revisiting it?"

Shay let his hand and mug fall to rest on the edge of the desk. "I'm not doing this out of malice, Haytham. This isn't some trick to make you look the fool. I just want to know what I heard was true of heart, because I feel very much of the same way."

Now it was Haytham's turn to be taken aback. There was a hint of surprise that he hid very well, but it sat comfortably around the corners of his eyes. Shay watched his companion take in that information but didn't allow him to dwell on it for very long. "Frankly, sir, I'm reckless not because I don't care, but because I care too much. You mean so much to me that I don't even think twice about stepping in between you and danger, even if that danger is the ire of the North Atlantic. If something were to happen to you, I'm not exactly sure what I'd do." Shay said, sincerely.

"So when I spoke to you earlier, it wasn't an unwelcome feeling?" Haytham asked quietly.

Shay chuckled a little, "A bit of a surprise, aye, but not at all unwelcome."

Haytham smiled at him. "It relaxes my heart to hear you say that. You've become so much more to me than a captain under my command. You've become a beacon in the darkness, an anchor of which I know will keep me sturdy, and someone I can count on to challenge my actions." Haytham leaned back in his chair like a physical weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Your very presence brings me a joy I cannot put into words, Shay."

Shay rose his glass to him in agreement. "Haytham, I cannot hope to tell you the amount for which I care for you, as I fear it may be unmeasurable. In many ways, you are the same for me as I am to you. You helped to pull me out of a pit that I could not see the bottom of, and did not shy away when you locked eyes with the monster that emerged. I can see now that I am not that man anymore, and that was not an easy conclusion to come to. I never thought myself worthy of your attention, let alone your companionship, but I've reconciled with myself and now am willing to take whatever parts of yourself you wish to share with me."

Haytham leaned forward, touch the hand Shay held his mug with. "I give myself to you completely, Shay."

Shay leaned forward to meet his eyes, taking his hand off his mug and taking Haythams hand up in his, "And I to you, sir."

_Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage  
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea  
Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage  
And make a Northwest Passage to the sea_

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I wrote this entire fic in some sort of trance. Idk where it came from, where it was going, but it was like the overwhelming urge to fill the Shay/Haytham drought on here had taken control of me.
> 
> The song I used was Northwest Passage by Stan Rogers


End file.
